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FRIEMP 
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EY HEMRY 
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Copyright, 1910 

By 
Elbert Hubbard 



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FRIENDSHIP 




HILE we float here, far from 
that tributary stream on 
whose banks our friends and 
kindred dwell, our thoughts, 
like the stars, come out of 
their horizon still; for there 
!• circulates a finer blood than 
Lavoisier has discovered the 
laws of— the blood, not of 
kindred merely, but of 
kindness whose pulse still 
beats at any distance and 
forever. After years of vain 
familiarity, some distant 
gesture or unconscious behavior, which w^e 
remember, speaks to us w^ith more emphasis than 
the wisest or kindest words. We are sometimes 
made aware of a kindness long passed, and realize 
that there have been times w^hen our friends' 
thoughts of us were of so pure and lofty a 
character that they passed over us like the w^inds 
of heaven unnoticed; w^hen they treated us not 
as what we were, but as what we aspired to be. 
There has just reached us, it may be, the 
nobleness of some such silent behavior, not to be 
forgotten, not to be remembered, and we shudder 
to think how^ it fell on us cold, though in some 
true but tardy hour w^e endeavor to w^ipe off 
these scores. 

In my experience, persons, when they are made 
the subject of conversation, though w^ith a friend, 
are commonly the most prosaic and trivial of 
facts. The universe seems bankrupt as soon as 
we begin to discuss the character of individuals. 
Our discourse all runs to slander, and our limits 

9 






grow narrow^er as we advance. How is it that w 
are impelled to treat our old friends so ill when 
we obtain new ones? The housekeeper says, *' I 
never had any new crockery in my life but I 
began to break the old." I say, let us speak of 
mushrooms and forest-trees, rather. Yet, we can 
sometimes afford to remember them in private. 
C Friendship is evanescent in every man's 
experience, and remembered like heat-lightning 
in past Summers. Fair and flitting, like a Summer 
cloud, there is alw^ays some vapor in the air, no 
matter how long the drought; there are even 
April showier s J2*. Surely from time to time, for 
its vestiges never depart, it floats through our 
atmosphere. It takes place, like vegetation, in so 
many materials, because there is such a law^, but 
always without permanent form, though ancient . 
and familiar as the sun and moon, and as sure to 
come again. The heart is forever inexperienced. 
They silently gather, as by magic, these never 
failing, never quite deceiving visions, like the 
bright and fleecy clouds in the calmest and clearest 
days iSv The Friend is some fair, floating isle of 
palms eluding the mariner in Pacific seas. Many 
are the dangers to be encountered, equinoctial 
gales and coral-reefs, ere he may sail before the 
constant trades. But w^ho w^ould not sail through 
mutiny and storm, even over Atlantic waves, to 
reach the fabulous, retreating shores of some 
continent man ? 

Columbus has sailed Westw^ard of these isles, 
by the mariner's compass, but neither he nor his 
successors have found them. We are no nearer 
than Plato w^as. The earnest seeker and hopeful 
discoverer of this New^ 'World alw^ays haunts 

10 



the outskirts of his time, and walks through the 
densest crowd uninterrupted, and, as it w^ere, in 
a straight line. 

Who does not walk on the plain as amid the 
columns of Tadmore of the desert? There is on 
the earth no institution which Friendship has 
established; it is not taught by any religion; no 
scripture contains its maxims. It has no temple, 
nor even a solitary column. There goes a rumor 
that the earth is inhabited, but the shipwrecked 
mariner has not seen a footprint on the shore. The 
hunter has found only fragments of pottery and 
the monuments of inhabitants. 
However, our fates at least are social ^ Our 
courses do not diverge ; but as the w^eb of destiny 
is woven it is fulled, and we are cast more and 
more into the center S*. Men naturally, though 
feebly, seek this alliance, and their actions faintly 
foretell it. We are inclined to lay the chief stress 
on likeness and not on difference, and in foreign 
bodies we admit that there are many degrees of 
w^armth below^ blood-heat, but none of cold 
above it. 

One or two persons come to my house from time 
to time, there being proposed to them the faint 
possibility of intercourse. They are as full as 
they are silent, and wait for my plectrum to stir 
the strings of their lyre. If they could ever come 
to the length of a sentence, or hear one, on that 
ground they are dreaming of ! They speak faintly, 
and do not obtrude themselves ^ They have 
heard some new^s which none, not even they 
themselves, can impart. It is a w^ealth they bear 
about them which can be expended in various 

ways. W^hat came they out to seek ? 

11 



No word is oftener on tlie lips of men thani 
Friendship, and indeed no thought is more 
familiar to their aspirations iS^ All men are 
dreaming of it, and its drama, which is always a 
tragedy, is enacted daily. It is the secret of the 
universe. You may thread the town, you may 
wander the country, and none shall ever speak 
of it, yet thought is everyw^here busy about it, 
and the idea of what is possible in this respect 
affects our behavior toward all new^ men and 
women, and a great many old ones. Nevertheless, 
I can remember only tw^o or three essays on this 
subject in all literature ^ No "wonder that the 
Mythology, and Arabian Nights, and Scott's 
novels and Shakespeare entertain us— we are 
poets and fablers and novelists and dramatists 
ourselves. We are continually acting a part in a 
more interesting drama than any w^ritten. We 
are dreaming that our Friends are our Friends^ 
and that we are our Friends' Friends. Our actual 
Friends are but distant relations of those to \vhom 
we are pledged. We never exchange more than 
three w^ords w^ith a Friend in our lives on that 
level to which our thoughts and feelings almost 
habitually rise. One goes forth prepared to say, 
** Sw^eet Friends ! " and the salutation is, **Damn 
your eyes !" But, never mind; faint heart never 
w^on true Friend, O my Friend, may it come to 
pass, once, that when you are my Friend I may 
be yours, v 

Of what use the friendliest disposition even, if 
there are no hours given to Friendship, if it is 
forever postponed to unimportant duties and 
relations? Friendship is first. Friendship last. 

But it is equally impossible to forget our Friends, 

u 



and to make them answer to our ideal. "When 
they say farewell, then indeed w^e begin to keep 
them company. How often we find ourselves 
turning our backs on our actual Friends, that we 
may go and meet their ideal cousins ^ I would 
that I were worthy to be any man's Friend. 
What is commonly honored with the name of 
Friendship is no very profound or powerful 
instinct. Men do not, after all, love their Friends 
greatly 3k I do not often see the farmers made 
seers and wise to the verge of insanity by their 
Friendship for one another. They are not often 
transfigured and translated by love in each other's 
presence. I do not observe them purified, refined 
and elevated by the love of a man. If one abates 
a little the price of his wood, or gives a neighbor 
his vote at town-meeting, or a barrel of apples, 
or lends him his wagon frequently, it is esteemed 
a rare instance of Friendship. Nor do the farmers' 
wives lead lives consecrated to Friendship. I do 
not see the pair of farmer friends of either sex 
prepared to stand against the -world. There are 
only two or three couples in history. To say that 
a man is your Friend, means commonly no more 
than this, that he is not your enemy S*. Most 
contemplate only ^vhat would be the accidental 
and trifling advantages of Friendship, as that 
the Friend can assist in time of need, by his 
substance, or his influence, or his counsel; but 
he w^ho foresees such advantages in this relation 
proves himself blind to its real advantage, or 
indeed w^holly inexperienced in the relation itself. 
Such services are particular and menial, compared 
w^ith the perpetual and all-embracing service 
w^hich it is S*. Even the utmost good w^ill and 

13 



harmony and practical kindness are not sufficient 
for Friendship, for Friencls do not live in harmony 
merely, as some say, but in melody. We do not 
wish for Friends to clothe and feed our bodies 
(neighbors are kind enough for that), but to do 
the like office to our spirits. For this, few are rich 
enough, however w^ell disposed they may be. 
€L Think of the importance of Friendship in the 
education of men. It w^ill make a man honest; it 
will make him a hero; it will make him a saint. 
It is the state of the just dealing with the just, 
the magnanimous w^ith the magnanimous, the 
sincere w^ith the sincere, man with man. 

" Why love amon^ the virtues is not known. 
Is that love is them all contract in one." 

All the abuses which are the object of reform 
with the philanthropist, the statesman and the 
housekeeper, are unconsciously amended in the 
intercourse of Friends ^ A Friend is one w^ho 
incessantly pays us the compliment of expecting 
from us all the virtues, and who can appreciate 
them in us. It takes tw^o to speak the truth— one 
to speak, and another to hear. How can one treat 
w^ith magnanimity mere w^ood and stone ? If we 
dealt only w^ith the false and dishonest, w^e 
should at last forget how to speak truth. In our 
daily intercourse with men, our nobler faculties 
are dormant and suffered to rust. None w^ill pay 
us the compliment to expect nobleness from us. 
"We ask our neighbor to suffer himself to be dealt 
w^ith truly, sincerely, nobly; but he answ^ers 
**No," by his deafness. He does not even hear this 
prayer. He says practically, ** I w^ill be content 
if you treat me as no better than I should be, as 
deceitful, mean, dishonest and selfish." For the 

14 



most part, we are contented so to deal and to be 
dealt with, and we do not think that for the mass 
of men there is any truer and nobler relation 
possible. A man may have good neighbors, so 
called, and acquaintances, and even companions, 
wife, parents, brothers, sisters, children, ^vho 
meet himself and one another on this ground 
only. The State does not demand justice of its 
members, but thinks that it succeeds very w^ell 
w^ith the least degree of it— hardly more than 
rogues practise — and so do the family and the 
neighborhood. Even w^hat is commonly called 
Friendship is only a little more honor among 
rogues. 

But sometimes w^e are said to love another; that 
is, to stand in a true relation to him, so that w^e 
give the best to, and receive the best from, him. 
Between whom there is hearty truth there is 
love; and in proportion to our truthfulness and 
confidence in one another, our lives are divine 
and miraculous, and answer to our ideal. There 
are passages of affection in our intercourse w^ith 
mortal men and w^omen, such as no prophecy 
had taught us to expect, w^hich transcend our 
earthly life, and anticipate Heaven for us. "What 
is this Love that may come right into the middle 
of a prosaic Goffstown day, equal to any of the 
gods ; that discovers a new^ w^orld, fair and fresh 
and eternal, occupying the place of this old one, 
when to the common eye a dust has settled on 
the universe ; which w^orld can not else be 
reached, and does not e^istl W^hat other words, 
w^e may almost ask, are memorable and worthy 
to be repeated than those which love has inspired ? 
It is wonderful that they were ever uttered. They 

15 



are few and rare, indeed; but, like a strain of 
music, they are incessantly repeated and 
modulated by the memory S^ All other words 
crumble off w^ith the stucco which overlies the 
heart. We should not dare to repeat them now 
aloud. We are not competent to hear them at 
all times. 

The books for young people say a great deal 
about the selection of Friends ; it is because they 
really have nothing to say about Friends. They 
mean associates and confidants merely. **Know^ 
that the contrariety of Foe and Friend proceeds 
from God." Friendship takes place betw^een those 
who have an affinity for one another, and is a 
perfectly natural and inevitable result 3^ No 
professions nor advances w^ill avail. Even 
speech, at first, necessarily has nothing to do 
with it: but it follows after silence, as the buds 
in the graft do not put forth into leaves till long 
after the graft has taken. It is a drama in which 
the parties have no part to act 3. "We are all 
Mussulmans and fatalists in this respect i^ 
Impatient and uncertain lovers think that they 
must say or do something kind whenever they 
meet; they must never be cold. But they w^ho are 
Friends do not do what they think they must, 
but what they must. Even their Friendship is in , 
one sense but a sublime phenomenon to them. I 
€L The true and not despairing Friend w^ill address 
his Friend in some such terms as these : 
**I never asked thy leave to let me love thee— I 
have a right. I love thee not as something private 
and personal, w^hich is your own, but as something 
universal and w^orthy of love, which I have found. 
Oh, how I think of you ! You are purely good- 
ie 



you are infinitely good. I can trust you forever. I 
did not think that humanity was so rich. Give 
me an opportunity to live. 

** You are the fact in a fiction — you are the truth 
more strange and admirable than fiction. Consent 
only to be what you are. I alone will never stand 
in your w^ay. 

**This is what I would like: to be as intimate 
with you as our spirits are intimate, respecting 
you as I respect my ideal. Never to profane one 
another by word or action, even by a thought. 
Between us, if necessary, let there be no 
acquaintance. 

'*I have discovered you; how can you be concealed 
from me?" 

The Friend asks no return but that his Friend 
will religiously accept and wear and not disgrace 
his apotheosis of him. They cherish each other's 
hopes. They are kind to each other's dreams. 
C Though the poet says, ** 'T is the pre-eminence 
of Friendship to impute excellence," yet w^e 
can never praise our Friend, nor esteem him 
praiseworthy, nor let him think that he can 
please us by any behavior^ or ever treat us w^ell 
enough ^ That kindness w^hich has so good a 
reputation elsewhere can least of all consist w^ith 
this relation, and no such affront can be offered to 
a Friend, as a conscious good w^ill, a friendliness 
which is not a necessity of the Friend's nature. 
€LThe sexes are naturally most strongly attracted 
to one another, by constant constitutional 
differences, and are most commonly and surely 
the complements of one another i^ How natural 
and easy it is for man to secure the attention of 
w^oman to what interests himself 3»^ Men and 

17 



women of equal culture, thrown together, are 
sure to be of a certain value to one another, more 
than men to men. There exists already a natural 
disinterestedness and liberality in such society, 
and I think that any man w^ill more confidently 
carry his favorite books to read to some circle of 
intelligent w^omen, than to one of his ow^n sex. 
The visit of man to man is w^ont to be an 
interruption, but the sexes naturally expect one 
another. Yet Friendship is no respecter of sex ; 
and perhaps it is more rare betw^een the sexes 
than between two of the same sex. 
Friendship is, at any rate, a relation of perfect 
equality. It can not w^ell spare any outw^ard 
sign of equal obligation and advantage Sv The 
nobleman can never have a Friend among his 
retainers, nor the king among his subjects. Not 
that the parties to it are in all respects equal, but 
they are equal in all that respects or affects their 
Friendship. The one's love is exactly balanced 
and represented by the other's. Persons are only 
the vessels which contain the nectar, and the 
hydrostatic paradox is the symbol of love's law^. 
It finds its level and rises to its fountainhead in 
all breasts, and its slenderest column balances 
the ocean. 

Love equals s-wiit and slo^v. 

And high and lew. 

Racer and lame. 

The hunter and his game. 

The one sex is not, in this respect, more tender 

than the other. A hero's love is as delicate as a 

maiden's. 

Confucius said, ** Never contract Friendship 

w^ith a man that is not better than thyself." It is 

18 



the merit and preservation of Friendship, that it 
takes place on a level higher than the actual 
characters of the parties would seem to warrant. 
The rays of light come to us in such a curve that 
every man whom we meet appears to be taller 
than he actually is. Such foundation has civility. 
My Friend is that one whom I can associate w^ith 
my choicest thought. I alw^ays assign to him a 
nobler employment in my absence than I ever 
find him engaged in ; and I imagine that the hours 
which he devotes to me were snatched from a 
higher society. The sorest insult which I ever 
received from a Friend was, w^hen he behaved 
w^ith the license which only long and cheap 
acquaintance allows to one's fault, in my 
presence, w^ithout shame, and still addressed me 
in friendly accents. Beware, lest thy Friend learn 
at last to tolerate one frailty of thine, and so an 
obstacle be raised to the progress of thy love. 
Friendship is never established as an understood 
relation ^ Do you demand that I be less your 
Friend that you may know it ? Yet what right 
have I to think that another cherishes so rare a 
sentiment for me ? It is a miracle which requires 
constant proofs. It is an exercise of the purest 
imagination and the rarest faith. It says by a 
silent but eloquent behavior: ** I w^ill be so related 
to thee as thou canst imagine; even so thou 
mayest believe. I will spend truth — all my wealth 
—on thee," and the Friend responds silently 
through his nature and life, and treats his Friend 
with the same divine courtesy. He knows us 
literally through thick and thin. He never asks 
for a sign of love, but can distinguish it by the 
features which it naturally wears. We never 

19 



need to stand upon cefemony -with him with 
regard to his visits. Wait not till I invite thee, 
but observe that I am glad to see thee when thou 
comest. It would be paying too dear for thy visit 
to ask for it. Where my Friend lives there are 
riches and every attraction, and no slight obstacle 
can keep me from him. Let me never have to tell 
thee what I have not to tell. Let our intercourse 
be w^holly above ourselves, and draw^ us up to it. 
The language of Friendship is not words but 
meanings. It is an intelligence above language. 
One imagines endless conversations w^ith his 
Friend, in w^hich the tongue shall be loosed, and 
thoughts be spoken without hesitancy, or end; 
but the experience is commonly far otherw^ise. 
Acquaintances may come and go, and have a 
word ready for every occasion ; but what puny 
word shall he utter w^hose very breath is thought 
and meaning ? Suppose you go to bid farewell to 
your Friend w^ho is setting out on a journey ; 
w^hat other outw^ard sign do you know^ of than to 
shake his hand ? Have you any palaver ready for 
him then; any box of salve to commit to his 
pocket; any particular message to send by him; 
any statement w^hich you had forgotten to make- 
as if you could forget anything? ^ No; it is 
much that you take his hand and say Farew^ell ; 
that you could easily omit; so far custom has 
prevailed. It is even painful, if he is to go, that 
he should linger so long. If he must go, let him 
go quickly. Have you any last words ? Alas, it 
is only the w^ord of words, which you have so 
long sought and found not ; you have not a first 
word yet. There are few even whom I should 
venture to call earnestly by their most proper 

20 



natnes. A name pronounced is the recognition of 
the individual to whom it belongs. He who can 
pronounce my name aright, he can call me, and 
is entitled to my love and service. 
The violence of love is as much to be dreaded as 
that of hate. W^hen it is durable it is serene and 
equable. Even its famous pains begin only with 
the ebb of love, for few are indeed lovers, though 
all would fain be S^ It is one proof of a man's 
fitness for Friendship that he is able to do without 
that w^hich is cheap and passionate 3^. A true 
Friendship is as w^ise as it is tender. The parties 
to it yield implicitly to the guidance of their 
love, and know no other law^ nor kindness. It is 
not extravagant and insane, but w^hat it says is 
something established henceforth, and w^ill 1 ear 
to be stereotyped. It is a truer truth, it is better 
and fairer news, and no time will ever shame it, 
or prove it false. This is a plant which thrives 
best in a temperate zone, w^here Summer and 
W^inter alternate with one another. The Friend 
is a necessarious, and meets his Friend on homely 
ground; not on carpets and cushions, but on the 
ground and on rocks they w^ill sit, obeying the 
natural and primitive laws S** They ^vill meet 
w^ithout any outcry, and part without loud 
sorrow. Their relation implies such qualities as 
the w^arrior prizes ; for it takes a valor to open 
the hearts of men as w^ell as the gates of cities. 
C Friendship is not so kind as is imagined; it has 
not much human blood in it, but consists with a 
certain disregard for men and their erections, the 
Christian duties and humanities, w^hile it purifies 
the air like electricity. There may be the sternest 
tragedy in the relation of two more than usually 

21 



innocent and true to thjeir highest instincts. We 
may call it an essentially heathenish intercourse, 
free and irresponsible in its nature, and practising 
all the virtues gratuitously ^ It is not the 
highest sympathy merely, but a pure and lofty 
society, a fragmentary and godlike intercourse 
of ancient date, still kept up at intervals, 
which, remembering itself, does not hesitate to 
disregard the humbler rights and duties of 
humanity. It requires immaculate and godlike 
qualities full grown, and exists at all only by 
condescension and anticipation of the remotest 
future. We love nothing w^hich is merely good 
and not fair, if such a thing is possible. Nature j 
puts some kind of blossom before every fruit, ^ 
not simply a calyx behind it. W^hen the Friend 
comes out of his heathenism and superstition, 
and breaks his idols, being converted by the i 
precepts of a newer testament ; w^hen he forgets \ 
his mythology, and treats his Friend like a 
Christian, or as he can afford; then Friendship 
ceases to be Friendship, and becomes charity; 
that principle which established the almshouse is 
now beginning with its charity at home, and 
establishing an almshouse and pauper relations 
there S». S*. 





S for the number \vhich this 
society admits, it is at any 
rate to be be^un with one, 
the noblest and greatest that 
we know, and whether the 
world w^ill ever carry it 
further, whether, as Chaucer 
affirms, ''There be mo 
sterres in the skie than a 
pair," remains to be proved; 

"And certaine he is well begone. 
Among a thousand that findeth one." 

W^e shall not surrender 
ourselves heartily to any 
while ^ve are conscious that another is more 
deserving of our love. Yet Friendship does not 
stand for numbers ; the Friend does not count his 
Friends on his fingers; they are not numerable. 
The more there are included by this bond, if 
they are indeed included, the rarer and diviner 
the quality of the love that binds them ik I am 
ready to believe that as private and intimate a 
relation may exist by which three are embraced, 
as betw^een tw^o. Indeed, we can not have too 
many Friends; the virtue which w^e appreciate 
w^e to some extent appropriate, so that thus ^ve 
are made at last fit for every relation of life. A 
base Friendship is alw^ays of a narro"wing and 
exclusive tendency, but a noble one is never 
exclusive; its very superfluity and dispersed 
love is the humanity which sweetens society, 
and sympathizes with foreign nations ; for though 
its foundations are private, it is in effect a public 
affair and a public advantage, and the Friend, 
more than the father of a family, deserves w^ell 

23 



of the State. C. The only clanger in Friendship is 
that it will end. It is a delicate plant though a 
native J*. The least un worthiness, even if it be 
unknown to one's self, vitiates it. Let the Friend 
know that those faults which he observes in his 
Friend his own faults attract. There is no rule 
more invariable than that we are paid for our 
suspicions by finding what we suspected. By our 
narrowness and prejudices 'we say, ** I will have 
so much and such of you, my Friend, no more." 
Perhaps there are none charitable, none wise, 
none disinterested, noble, and heroic enough for a 
true and lasting Friendship. 

I sometimes hear my Friends complain finely 
that I do not appreciate their fineness. I shall 
not tell them whether I do or not. As if they 
expected a vote of thanks for every fine thing 
w^hich they uttered or did! Who knows but it 
w^as finely appreciated? J*. It may be that your 
silence was the finest thing of the tw^o. There 
are some things w^hich a man never speaks of, 
which are much finer kept silent about. To the 
highest communications w^e only lend a silent 
ear. Our finest relations are not simply kept 
silent about, but buried under a positive depth 
of silence, never to be revealed. It may be that 
we are not even yet acquainted 3^ In human 
intercourse the tragedy begins, not w^hen there is 
misunderstanding about words, but when silence 
is not understood. Then there can never be an 
explanation. "What avails it that another loves 
you, if he does not understand you ? Such love 
is a curse. What sort of companions are they 
who are presuming always that their silence is 
more expressive than yours ? How foolish, and 

24 



inconsiderate, and unjust, to conduct as if you 
were the only party aggrieved! Has not your 
Friend always equal ground of complaint ? No 
doubt my Friends sometimes speak to me in vain, 
but they do not know w^hat things I hear which 
they are not aware that they have spoken. I 
know^ that I have frequently disappointed them 
by not giving them w^ords w^hen they expected 
them, or such as they expected. 'Whenever I see 
my Friend I speak to him, but the expector, the 
man with the ears, is not he. They will complain, 
too, that you are hard. O ye that would have the 
cocoanut wrong side outwards, when next I 
weep I will let you know^. They ask for w^ords 
and deeds, when a true relation is word and deed. 
If they know not of these things, how can they 
be informed ? W^e often forbear to confess our 
feelings, not from pride, but for fear that we 
could not continue to love the one who required 
.^us to gvve such proof of our affection. 
I know a woman who possesses a restless and 
intelligent mind, interested in her ow^n culture, 
and earnest to enjoy the highest possible 
advantages, and I meet her w^ith pleasure as a 
natural person w^ho not a little provokes me, 
and, I suppose, is stimulated in turn by myself. 
Yet our acquaintance plainly does not attain to 
that degree of confidence and sentiment which 
women, w^hich all, in fact, covet. I am glad to 
help her, as I am helped by her; I like very well 
to know^ her w^ith a sort of stranger's privilege, 
and hesitate to visit her often, like her other 
Friends. My nature pauses here, I do not well 
know w^hy 3^ Perhaps she does not make the 
highest demand on me, a religious demand. Some, 

25 



•with whose prejudices or peculiar bias I have no 
sympathy, yet inspire me with confidence, and 
I trust that they confide in me also as a religious 
heathen at least— a good Greek 3< I, too, have 
principles as w^ell founded as their ow^n. If this 
person could conceive that, w^ithout w^ilfulness, 
I associate with her as far as our destinies are 
coincident, as far as our Good Geniuses permit, 
and still value such intercourse, it w^ould be a 
grateful assurance to me. I feel as if I appeared 
careless, indifferent and without principle to her, 
not expecting more, and yet not content w^ith 
less. If she could know that I make an infinite 
demand on myself, as w^ell as on all others, 
she would see that this true though incomplete 
intercourse is infinitely better than a more 
unreserved but falsely grounded one, without 
the principle of growth in it. For a companion, I 
require one w^ho will make an equal demand on 
me with my ow^n genius. Such a one will always 
be rightly tolerant. It is suicide and corrupts 
good manners to welcome any less than this. I 
value and trust those w^ho love and praise my 
aspiration rather than my performance. If you 
w^ould not stop to look at me, but look 'whither 
I am looking and farther, then my education 
could not dispense with your company. 

My love must be as free 

As is the eagle's "wing. 
Hovering o'er land and sea 

And everything. 

I must not dim my eye 

In thy saloon, 
I must not leave my sky 
And nightly moon. 
26 



Be not the fowler's net 

"Which stays my flight. 
And craftily i« set 

T' allure the sight. 

But the favoring gale 

That bears me on. 
And still doth fill my sail 

When thou art gone. 

I can not leave my sky 

For thy caprice. 
True love w^ould soar as high 

As heaven is. 

The eagle would not brook 

Her mate thus ^^on. 
Who trained his eye to look 

Beneath the sun. 

Nothing is so difficult as to help a Friend in 
matters Tvhich do not require the aid of Friendship, 
but only a cheap and trivial service, if your 
Friendship wants the basis of a thorougfh, 
practical acquaintance. I stand in the friendliest 
relation, on social and spiritual grounds, to one 
who does not perceive w^hat practical skill I 
have, but when he seeks my assistance in such 
matters, is wholly ignorant of that one whom 
he deals with ; does not use my skill, which in 
such matters is much greater than his, but only 
my hands. I know another, who, on the contrary, 
is remarkable for his discrimination in this 
respect ; who know^s how to make use of the 
talents of others w^hen he does not possess the 
same ; knows when not to look after or oversee, 
and stops short at his man. It is a rare pleasure 
to serve him, which all laborers know. I am not 
a little pained by the other kind of treatment. It 

27 



is as if, after the friendliest and most ennobling 
intercourse, your Friend should use you as a 
hammer and drive a nail with your head, all 
in good faith; notwithstanding that you are a 
tolerable carpenter, as well as his good Friend, and 
would use a hammer cheerfully in his service. 
This want of perception is a defect which all the 
virtues of the heart can not supply. 

The Good how can ^^e trust ? 

Only the "Wise arc just. 

The Good we use. 

The W^ise "we can not choose. 

These there are none above; 

The Good they know^ and love. 

But are not known again 

By those of lesser ken. 

They do not charm us w^ith their eyes. 

But they transfix -with theitt.advice; 

No partial sympathy they feel 

"With private w^oe or private w^eal. 

But with the universe joy and sigh, 

"Whose know^ledge is their sympathy. 

Confucius said: **To contract ties of Friendship 
with any one, is to contract Friendship with his 
virtue. There ought not to be any other motive 
in Friendship." But men wish us to contract 
Friendship w^ith their vice also. I have a Friend 
who wishes me to see that to be right w^hich I 
know^ to be wrong. But if Friendship is to rob 
me of my eyes, if it is to darken the day, I w^ill 
have none of it ^ It should be expansive and 
inconceivably liberalizing in its effects. True 
Friendship can afford true kno^vledge. It does not 
depend on darkness and ignorance. A w^ant of 
discernment can not be an ingredient in it. If 
I can see my Friend's virtues more distinctly 
than another's, his faults, too, are made more 



conspicuous by contrast. 'We have not so good 
a right to hate any as our Friend ^ Faults are 
not the less faults because they are invariably 
balanced by corresponding virtues, and for a 
fault there is no excuse, though it may appear 
greater than it is in many ways. I have never 
known one who could bear criticism, who could 
not be flattered, who w^ould not bribe his judge, 
or w^ho was content that the truth should be 
loved always better than himself. 
If tw^o travelers would go their way harmoniously 
together, the one must take as true and just a 
view of things as the other, else their path w^ill 
not be strewn with roses. Yet you can travel 
profitably and pleasantly even with a blind man, 
if he practises common courtesy, and w^hen you 
converse about the scenery ^vill remember that 
he is blind but that you can see; and you will 
not forget that his sense of hearing is probably 
quickened by his w^ant of sight. Otherwise you 
w^ill not long keep company. A blind man and 
a man in w^hose eyes there w^as no defect w^ere 
w^alking together, w^hen they came to the edge 
of a precipice. **Take care! my friend," said the 
latter; **here is a steep precipice; go no farther 
this way." '*I know better," said the other, and 
stepped off. 

It is impossible to say all that we think, even to 
our truest Friend S*. "We may bid him farewell 
forever sooner than complain, for our complaint 
is too w^ell grounded to be uttered. There is not 
so good an understanding betw^een any two, but 
the exposure by the one of a serious fault in 
the other will produce a misunderstanding in 
proportion to its heinousness. The constitutional 

29 



differences which always exist, and are obstacles 
to a perfect Friendship,' are to the lips of Friends 
forever a forbidden theme J** They advise by 
their w^hole behavior. Nothings can reconcile 
them but love. They are fatally late w^hen they 
undertake to explain and treat w^ith one another 
like foes. Who w^ill take an apology for a Friend? 
They must apologize like dew and frost, which 
are off again with the sun, and which all men 
know in their hearts to be beneficent S^k The 
necessity itself for explanation; what explanation 
will atone for that ? True love does not quarrel 
for slight reasons, such mistakes as mutual 
acquaintances can explain aw^ay, but, alas! 
how^ever slight the apparent cause, only for 
adequate and fatal and everlasting reasons, 
w^hich can never be set aside. Its quarrel, if there 
is any, is ever recurring, notwithstanding the 
beams of affection which invariably come to gild 
its tears; as the rainbow, however beautiful and 
unerring a sign, does not promise fair weather 
forever, but only for a season. I have known two 
or three persons pretty well, and yet I have 
never know^n advice to be of use but in trivial 
and transient matters. One may know^ what 
another does not, but the utmost kindness can 
not impart what is requisite to make the advice 
useful. W^e must accept or refuse one another as 
^ve are. I could tame a hyena more easily than 
my Friend. He is a material which no tool of 
mine ^'ill work. A naked savage will fell an oak 
-with a firebrand and wear a hatchet out of the 
rock by friction, but I can not hew the smallest 
chip out of the character of my Friend, either to 
beautify or to deform it. 

30 



The lover learns at last there is no person quite 
transparent and trustworthy, but every one has 
a devil in him that is capable of any crime in the 
long run. Yet, as an Oriental philosopher has 
said, ** Although Friendship between good men 
is interrupted, their principles remain unaltered. 
The stalk of the lotus may be broken, and the 
fibers remain connected." 

Ignorance and bungling with love are better 
than wisdom and skill without. There may be 
courtesy, there may be even temper and \vit 
and talent and sparkling conversation, there may 
even be good w^ill— and yet the humanest and 
divinest faculties pine for exercise ^ Our life 
without love is like coke and ashes. Men may 
be as pure as alabaster and Parian marble, elegant 
as a Tuscan villa, sublime as Niagara; and yet if 
there is no milk mingled w^ith the wine at their 
entertainments, better is the hospitality of Goths 
and Vandals. My Friend is not of some other race 
or family of men, but flesh of my flesh, bone of 
my bone. He is my real brother. I see his nature 
groping yonder so like mine. We do not live far 
apart. Have not the Fates associated us in many 
\vays? Is it of no significance that we have so 
long partaken of the same loaf, drank at the same 
fountain, breathed the same air. Summer and 
Winter felt the same heat and cold; that the 
same fruits have been pleased to refresh us both, 
and we have never had a thought of different 
fiber the one with the other ? 

Nature doth have her dawn each day. 

But mine are far between ; 
Content, I cry, for sooth to say. 

Mine brightest are I w^een. 

31 



For when my sun doth deign to rise. 

Though it be her noontide. 
Her fairest field in shadow lies. 

Nor can my light abide. 

Sometimes I bask me in her day. 

Conversing with my mate. 
But if w^c interchange one ray. 

Forthwith her heats abate. 

Through his discourse I climb and see. 

As from some Eastern hill, 
A brighter morrow^ rise to me 

Than lieth in her skill. 

As 't 'were two Summer days in one, 

Tw^o Sundays come together. 
Our rays united make one sun 

With fairest Summer weather. 

' As surely as the sunset in my latest Novenjjber 
shall translate me to the ethereal 'world, and 
remind me of the ruddy morning of youth ; as 
surely as the last strain of music "which falls on 
my decaying ear shall make age to be forgotten, 
or, in short, the manifold influences of nature 
survive during the term of our natural life, so 
surely my Friend shall forever be my Friend, 
and reflect a ray of God to me, and time shall 
foster and adorn and consecrate our Friendship, 
no less than the ruins of temples/ i5*» As I love 
Nature, as I love singing birds, and gleaming 
stubble, and flo'wing rivers, and morning and 
evening, and Summer and Winter, I love thee, 
my Friend. 

But all that can be said of Friendship is like 
botany to flow^ers. How can the understanding 
take account of its friendliness ? 
Even the death of Friends will inspire us as 

32 



much as their lives. They will leave consolation 
to the mourners, as the rich leave money to 
defray the expenses of their funerals, and their 
memories will be incrusted over with sublime 
and pleasing thoughts, as their monuments are 
overgrown with moss. 

This to our cis-Alpine and cis-Atlantic Friends. 
€L Also this other word of entreaty and advice to 
the large and respectable nation of Acquaintances, 
beyond the mountains; Greeting: 
My most serene and irresponsible neighbors, let 
us see that we have the w^hole advantage of 
each other; we w^ill be useful, at least, if not 
admirable, to one another S*. I know that the 
mountains w^hich separate us are high, and are 
covered w^ith perpetual snow, but despair not. 
Improve the serene NVinter weather to scale 
them. If need be, soften the rocks with vinegar. 
For here lie the verdant plains of Italy ready to 
receive you. Nor shall I be slow on my side to 
penetrate to your Provence. Strike then boldly 
at head or heart or any vital part. Depend upon 
it, the timber is well seasoned and tough, and 
will bear rough usage; and if it should crack, 
there is plenty more w^here it came from. I am 
no piece of crockery that can not be jostled 
against my neighbor w^ithout danger of being 
broken by the collision, and must needs ring 
false and jarringly to the end of my days, w^hen 
once I am cracked; but rather one of the 
old-fashioned w^ooden trenchers, which at one 
while stands at the head of the table, and at 
another is a milking- stool, and at another is a 
seat for children, and finally goes down to its 
grave not unadorned with honorable scars, and 

33 



does not die till it is. worn out. Nothing can 
shock a brave man but dulness. Think how- 
many rebuffs every man has experienced in his 
day ; perhaps has fallen into a horse-pond, eaten 
fresh-water clams, or worn one shirt for a w^eek 
without washing. Indeed, you can not receive a 
shock unless you have an electric affinity for 
that ^vhich shocks you. Use me, then, for I am 
useful in my w^ay, and stand as one of many 
petitioners from toadstool and henbane up to 
dahlia and violet, supplicating to be put to my use, 
if by any means ye may find me serviceable; 
whether for a medicated drink or bath, as balm 
and lavender; or for fragrance, as verbena and 
geranium; or for sight, as cactus; or for thoughts, 
as pansy. These humbler, at least, if not those 
higher uses. 

Ah, my dear Strangers and Enemies, I w^ould 
not forget you. I can well afford to welcome 
you. Let me subscribe myself. Yours ever and 
truly— your much obliged servant ^ "We have 
nothing to fear from our foes ; God keeps a 
standing army for that service ; but w^e have no 
ally against our Friends, those ruthless Vandals. 




34> 



11^ 



LOVE 




HAT the essential difference 
between man and woman 
is that they should be thus 
attracted to one another, 
no one has satisfactorily 
answ^ered. Perhaps w^e must 
• acknow^ledge the justness of 
the distinction w^hich assigns 
to man the sphere of wisdom, 
and to w^oman that of love, 
though neither belongs 
exclusively to either. Man 
is continually saying to 
^ w^oman, ** Why will you not 
be more w^ise ? " Woman is continually saying to 
man, ** W^hy w^ill you not be more loving?" It is 
not in their w^ills to be wise or to be loving; but 
unless each is both ^wise and loving there can be 
neither w^isdom nor love. 

All transcendent goodness is one, though 
appreciated in different w^ays, or by different 
senses. In beauty we see it, in music we hear it^ in 
fragrance w^e scent it, in the palatable the pure 
palate tastes it, and in rare health the whole 
bo^y feels it. The variety is in the surface or 
manifestation; but the radical identity we fail 
to express. The lover sees in the glance of his 
beloved the same beauty that in the sunset paints 
the W^estern skies 3» It is the same daimon, 
here lurking under a human eyelid, and there 
under the closing eyelids of the day. Here, in 
small compass, is the ancient and natural beauty 
of evening and morning. W^hat loving astronomer 
has ever fathomed the ethereal depths of the 
eye ? ik J*. 

39 



The maiden conceals a fairer flower and sweeter 
fruit than any calyx in the field; and, if she goes 
w^ith averted face, confiding in her purity and 
high resolves, she will make the heavens 
retrospective, and all Nature humbly confess its 
queen ik 3^ 

Under the influence of this sentiment, man is 
a string of an Aeolian harp, which vibrates w^ith 
the zephyrs of the eternal morning. 
There is at first thought something trivial in 
the commonness of love Jk So many Indian 
youths and maidens along these banks have 
yielded in ages past to the influence of this 
great civilizer. Nevertheless, this generation 
is not disgusted nor discouraged, for love is 
no individual's experience; and though w^e are 
imperfect mediums, it does not partake of our 
imperfection ; though we are finite, it is infinite 
and eternal ; and the same divine influence broods 
over these banks, whatever race may inhabit 
them, and perchance still w^ould even if the 
human race did not d^vell here. 
Perhaps an instinct survives through the intensest 
actual love, w^hich prevents entire abandonment 
and devotion, and makes the most ardent lover 
a little reserved ik It is the anticipation of 
change. For the most ardent lover is not the less 
practically wise, and seeks a love w^hich w^ill 
last forever. 

Considering how few poetical friendships there 
are, it is remarkable that so many are married. 
It would seem as if men yielded too easy an 
obedience to Nature without consulting their 
genius. One may be drunk w^ith love w^ithout 
being any nearer to finding his mate 3k There 

40 



is more of good nature than good sense at the 
bottom of most marriages. But the good nature 
must have the counsel of the good spirit or 
Intelligence. If commonsense had been consulted, 
how many marriages would never have taken 
place; if uncommon or divine sense, how^ few^ 
marriages such as we witness w^ould ever have 
taken place ! 

Our love may be ascending or descending. What 
is its character, if it may be said of it : 

" We must respect the souls above. 
But only those belo"w -we love "? 

Love is a severe critic. Hate can pardon more 

than love. They who aspire to love -worthily, 

subject themselves to an ordeal more rigid than 

any other. 

Is your friend such an one that an increase of 

worth on your part will rarely make her more 

your friend ? Is she retained— is she attracted— by 

more nobleness in you, by more of that virtue 

which is peculiarly yours; or is she indifferent 

and blind to that ? Is she to be flattered and won 

by your meeting her on any other than the 

ascending path? Then duty requires that you 

separate from her. 

Love must be as much a light as a flame. 

"Where there is not discernment, the behavior 

even of the purest soul may in effect amount to 

coarseness. 

A man of fine perceptions is more truly feminine 

than a merely sentimental w^oman. The heart is 

blind ; but love is not blind. None of the gods is 

so discriminating. 

In love and friendship the imagination is as much 

exercised as the heart ; and if either is outraged 

41 



the other will be estranged. It is commonly the 
imagination which is wounded first, rather than 
the heart, — it is so much the more sensitive. 
Comparatively, we can excuse any offense 
againstthe heart, but not against the imagination. 
The imagination knows — nothing escapes its 
glance from out its eyrie— and it controls the 
breast ^ My heart may still yearn toward the 
valley, but my imagination will not permit me 
to jump off the precipice that debars me from it, 
for it is wounded, w^ounded, its wings are clipped 
and it can not fly even descendingly. Our 
** blundering hearts!" some poet says Sk The 
imagination never forgets ; it is a re-membering. It 
is not foundationless, but most reasonable, and it 
alone uses all the knowledge of the intellect. 
Love is the profoundest of secrets iS** Divulged, 
even to the beloved, it is no longer Love. As if it 
were merely I that loved you. When love ceases, 
then it is divulged. 

In our intercourse with one we love, w^e wish to 
have answered those questions at the end of 
which we do not raise our voice ; against w^hich 
w^e put no interrogation -mark, — answered w^ith 
the same unfailing, universal aim toward every 
point of the compass. 

I require that thou knowest everything without 
being told anything. I parted from my beloved 
because there was one thing which I had to tell 
her. She questioned me. She should have known 
all by sympathy. That I had to tell it her was 
thedifferencebetw^eenus, — the misunderstanding. 
C A lover never hears anything that is told, for 
that is commonly either false or stale ; but he 
hears things taking place, as the sentinels heard 

42 



Trenck mining in the ground, and thought it was 

moles. 

The relation may be profaned in many ways. 

The parties may not regard it with equal 

sacredness. 'What if the lover should learn that 

his beloved dealt in incantations and philters! 

"What if he should hear that she consulted a 

clairvoyant! 3-^ The spell w^ould be instantly 

broken S^ 3k 

If to chaffer and higgle are bad in trade, they are 

much w^orse in Love. It demands directness as 

of an arrow. 

There is danger that w^e lose sight of what our 

friend is absolutely, w^hile considering w^hat she 

is to us alone. 

The lover w^ants no partiality. He says, **Be so 

kind as to be just." 

" Can'st thou love with thy mind 

And reason with thy heart? 
Can'st thou be kind. 

And from thy darling part ? 

" Can'st thou range earth, sea and air. 
And so meet me every w^here ? 
Through all events I w^ill pursue thee. 
Through all persons I will woo thee," 

** I need thy hate as much as thy love. Thou wilt 
not repel me entirely w^hen thou repellest w^hat 
is evil in me." 

" Indeed, indeed, I can not tell. 
Though I ponder on it w^ell, 
"Which w^ere easier to state. 
All my love or all my hate. 
Surely, surely, thou wilt trust me 
When I say thou dost disgust me; 
O I hate thee with a hate 
That would fain annihilate; 

43 



" Yet, sometimes, against my will. 

My dear Friend, I love thee still. 

It were treason to our love. 

And a sin to God above. 

One iota to abate 

Of a pure, impartial bate." 

It is not enough that we are truthful ; we must 
cherish and carry out high purposes to be 
truthful about. 

It must be rare, indeed, that we meet with one 
to whom we are prepared to be quite ideally 
related, as she to us. We should have no reserve; 
we should give the whole of ourselves to that 
society ; we should have no duty aside from that. 
One who could bear to be so wonderfully and 
beautifully exaggerated every day. 
I would take my friend out of her low self and 
set her higher, infinitely higher, and there know 
her. But, commonly, men are as much afraid of 
love as of hate. They have low^er engagements. 
They have near ends to serve. They have not 
imagination enough to be thus employed about 
a human being, but must be coopering a barrel, 
forsooth ! 

'What a difference, w^hether, in all your walks, 
you meet only strangers, or in one house is one 
who knows you, and Tvhom you know ! To 
have a brother or a sister ! To have a gold mine 
on your farm! ^ To find diamonds in the 
gravel-heaps before your door ! How rare these 
things are! To share the day with you,— to 
people the earth. W^hether to have a god or a 
goddess for companion in your walks, or to 
walk alone with hinds and villains and carles. 
W^ould not a friend enhance the beauty of the 
landscape as much as a deer or hare ? Everything 

44 



would acknow^ledge and serve such a relation ; 
the corn in the field, and the cranberries in the 
meadow. The flowers would bloom, and the 
birds sing, with a new impulse. There w^ould be 
more fair days in the year. 

The object of love expands and grows before us 
to eternity, until it includes all that is lovely, 
and we become all that can love. 




45 



MARRIAGE 




HE subject of sex is a 
remarkable one, since, though 
its phenomena concern us 
so much, both directly and 
indirectly, and, sooner or 
later, it occupies the thoughts 
of all, yet all mankind, 
as it were, agree to be silent 
about it, at least the sexes 
commonly one to another. 
One of the most interesting 
of all human facts is veiled 
more completely than any 
mystery. It is treated with 
such secrecy and awe as surely do not go to any 
religion ^ I believe that it is unusual even for 
the most intimate friends to communicate the 
pleasures and anxieties connected w^ith this fact, 
—much as external a£fair of love, its comings 
and goings, are bruited. The Shakers do not 
exaggerate it so much by their manner of speaking 
of it, as all mankind by their manner of keeping 
silence about it. Not that men should speak on 
this or any subject without having anything 
worthy to say ; but it is plain that the education 
of man has hardly commenced,— there is so little 
genuine intercommunication. 
In a pure society, the subject of marriage would 
not be so often avoided from shame and not from 
reverence, winked out of sight, and hinted at 
only, but treated naturally and simply,— perhaps 
simply avoided, like the kindred mysteries. It 
can not be spoken of for shame, how can it be 
acted of? But, doubtless, there is far more purity, 
as w^ell as more impurity, than is apparent. 

51 



Men commonly couple with their idea of marriage 
a slight degree at least of sensuality ; but every 
lover, the world over, believes in its inconceivable 
purity Sk s^ 

If it is the result of a pure love, there can be 
nothing sensual in marriage ilk Chastity is 
something positive, not negative. It is the virtue 
of the married especially iSw All lusts or base 
pleasures must gvve place to loftier delights! 
They who meet as superior beings can not 
perform the deeds of inferior ones. The deeds of 
love are less questionable than any action of an 
individual can be, for, it being founded on the 
rarest mutual respect, the parties incessantly 
stimulate each other to a loftier and purer life, 
and the act in which they are associated must be 
pure and noble indeed, for innocence and purity 
can have no equal. In this relation we deal w^ith 
one w^hom w^e respect more religiously even than 
we respect our better selves, and we shall 
necessarily conduct as in the presence of God. 
"What presence can be more aw^ful to the lover 
than the presence of his beloved ? 
If you seek the w^armth even of affection from a 
similar motive to that from w^hich cats and dogs 
and slothful persons hug the £re, because your 
temperature is low through sloth, you are on the 
downw^ard road, and it is but to plunge yet 
deeper into sloth. Better the cold affection of the 
sun, reflected from fields of ice and snow^, or his 
warmth in some still w^intry dell. The warmth 
of celestial love does not relax, but nerves and 
braces its enjoyer. Warm your body by healthful 
exercise, not by cowering over a stove. W^arm 
your spirit by performing independently noble 

62 



deeds, not by ignobly seeking the sympathy of 
your fellows who are no better than yourself. A 
man^s social and spiritual discipline must answer 
to his corporeal. He must lean on a friend w^ho has 
a hard breast, as he w^ould lie on a hard bed. He 
must drink cold w^ater for his only beverage. So he 
must not hear sweetened and colored w^ords, but 
pure and refreshing truths. He must daily bathe 
in truth cold as spring w^ater, not w^armed by the 
sympathy of friends. 

Can love be in aught allied to dissipation ? Let 
us love by refusing, not accepting, one another. 
Lov e and lust are^ far ^sunder. Xhe one is good, 
"tKe other Ba3. When the affectionate synipathize 
by their higher natures, there is love ; but there 
is danger that they w^ill sympathize by their 
lower natures, and then there is lust. It is not 
necessary that this be deliberate, hardly even 
conscious ; but, in the close contact of affection, 
there is danger that w^e may stain and pollute 
one another, for we can not embrace but w^ith an 
entire embrace. 

We must love our friend so much that she shall 
be associated w^ith our purest and holiest thougnts 
alone ik When there is impurity, we have 
'* descended to meet," though we knew it not. 
CThe luxury of affection,— there 's the danger. 
There must be some nerve and heroism in our 
love, as of a W^inter morning. In the religion of all 
nations a purity is hinted at, which, I fear, men 
never attain to. We may love and not elevate 
one another. The love that takes us as it finds us 
degrades us. W^hat w^atch we must keep over the 
fairest and purest of our affections, lest there be 
some taint about them ! May we so love as never 

53 



to have occasion to repent of our love ! C, There is 
to be attributed to sensuality the loss to language 
of how many pregnant symbols ? Flowers, 
w^hich, by their infinite hues and fragrance, 
celebrate the marriage of the plants, are intended 
for a symbol of the open and unsuspected beauty 
of all true marriage, w^hen man*s flowering 
season arrives. 

Virginity, too, is a budding flower, and by an 
impure marriage the virgin is deflowered iSv 
Whoever loves flowers, loves virgins and 
chastity. Love and lust are as far asunder as a 
flower-garden is from a brothel. 
J. Biberg, in the Amaenitates Botanicae^ edited 
by Linnaeus, observes (I translate from the Latin): 
'* The organs of generation, "which, in the animal 
kingdom, are for the most part concealed by 
Nature, as if they w^ere to be ashamed of, in the 
vegetable kingdom are exposed to the eyes of all ; 
and, when the nuptials of plants are celebrated, 
it is wonderful w^hat delight they afford to the 
beholder, refreshing the senses w^ith the most 
agreeable color and the sweetest odor; and, at 
the same time, bees and other insects, not to 
mention the humming-bird, extract honey from 
their nectaries, and gather wax from their effete 
pollen." Linnaeus himself calls the calyx the 
thalamus, or bridal chamber ; and the corolla the 
aulaeum, or tapestry of it, and proceeds to 
explain thus every part of the flow^er. 
'Who know^s but evil spirits might corrupt the 
flow^ers themselves, rob them of their fragrance 
and their fair hues, and turn their marriage into 
a secret shame and defilement? Already they 
are of various qualities, and there is one w^hose 

54 



nuptials fill the lowlands in June with the odor 
of carrion. 

The intercourse of the sexes, I have dreamed, is 
incredibly beautiful, too fair to be remembered. 
I have had thoughts about it, but they are among 
the most fleeting and irrecoverable in my 
experience. It is strange that men will talk of 
miracles, revelation, inspiration, and the like, as 
things past, w^hile love remains. 
A true marriage w^ill differ in no w^ise from 
illumination. In all perception of the truth there 
is 2L divine ecstacy, an inexpressible delirium of 
joy, as when a youth embraces his betrothed 
virgin. The ultimate delights of a true marriage 
are one w^ith this. 

No w^onder that out of such a union, not as end, 
but as accompaniment, comes the undying race 
of men. The womb is a most fertile soil. 
Some have asked if the stock of men could not 
be improved, — if they could not be bred as cattle. 
Let Love be purified, and all the rest w^ill follow. 
A pure Love is thus, indeed, the panacea for all 
the ills of the w^orld. 

The only excuse for reproduction is improvement. 
Nature abhors repetition <^ Beasts merely 
propagate their kind; but the offspring of 
noble men and w^omen w^ill be superior to 
themselves, as their aspirations are. By their 
fruits ye shall know them. 



^^^ 




55 



HERE ENDETH " FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, and MARRIAGE,** 
THREE ESSAYS WRITTEN BY HENRY D. THOREAU. 
AND PRESERVED IN A PRINTED BOOK BY THE 
ROYCROFTERS, AT THEIR SHOP, WHICH IS IN EAST 
AURORA, ERIE COUNTY, NEW YORK, A. D., MCMX 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



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